


Forgive Us Our Trespasses

by Penknife



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Belts, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Feathers & Featherplay, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Praise Kink, Spanking, punishment kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penknife/pseuds/Penknife
Summary: The thing about demonic punishments was that they weren't intended to make you a better person. They might, in Crowley's experience, be intended to scare you, or to make an example of you to scare other people, or just be some demon's idea of fun. But the idea of being punished for your own good, so that you'd mend the error of your ways—that was angelic punishment all the way.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 162
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Forgive Us Our Trespasses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dudewheresmytea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudewheresmytea/gifts).



The thing about demonic punishments was that they weren't intended to make you a better person. They might, in Crowley's experience, be intended to scare you, or to make an example of you to scare other people, or just be some demon's idea of fun. But the idea of being punished for your own good, so that you'd mend the error of your ways—that was angelic punishment all the way.

For example, kneeling shirtless at Aziraphale's feet, his knees an uncomfortable distance apart and his shoulders unusually straight, Crowley was very aware that it wouldn't even have occurred to a demon to stroke Crowley's hair idly with one hand and say, "You're doing very well, my dear."

"All you want is for me to be still? That isn't much, I can be still like nobody's business," Crowley said, because frankly he was more comfortable down there than he would ever have liked to admit.

"The trouble is that if it's easy, then it's not really the practice of self-discipline, is it?" Aziraphale asked, as if this were genuinely an interesting philosophical problem that he was contemplating how to solve. There was always something a little alarming about Aziraphale in this mood, which Crowley couldn't deny was part of the appeal. "But we can do something about that."

The feather that Aziraphale produced with a conjurer's flourish might have been a swan's feather, except that Crowley was already acutely aware that it wasn't. The touch of an angel's feather wouldn't burn him, despite its blazing shimmer. He'd had his hands in Aziraphale's wings before, great soft drifts of feathers to comb and preen.

But he'd also learned that the prickling drag of one feather against his skin was decidedly infuriating. Aziraphale turned the feather around in his fingers, and then said, very kindly, "Do hold still, now," and traced a line with the feather tip from Crowley's collarbone to his nipple.

It required a real effort not to snap his hips forward at the first touch. He was already hard, his cock straining against his trousers, and he knew better than to even suggest that he be allowed to do something about it yet. Instead he managed to keep his back straight and his hips still while Aziraphale flicked the feather tip against one nipple, twirling it in a fluttering circle that made Crowley clench his jaw, and then moved on to the other.

"You're being very good," Aziraphale said, and drew the feather down his belly, a vicious tickle that made Crowley want to writhe. He locked his hips and gritted his teeth and held out, letting Aziraphale flick the feather against his skin, and then toy with his nipples with his fingers, and then use the feather again down the line of his back, a crawling itch at the small of his back that felt like punishment already.

It wasn't, he reminded himself. This was behaving. And he shouldn't enjoy it, shouldn't be craving even more praise for his endurance, but at the moment he felt that he could endure anything if he could only get it, even though the flicker of the feather against his skin was making him shudder involuntarily every time Aziraphale moved it—

"Crowley," Aziraphale said, a less alarming kind of compassion in his tone, or possibly more alarming, a reminder that they were playing a game and that Aziraphale actually intended for him to enjoy it. He knew what the next part of the game was, and it required that he actually start playing his part.

Aziraphale stroked Crowley's hair again for a moment while Crowley collected himself, and then Aziraphale reached out to flick the feather against Crowley's nipple again, and Crowley twisted away dramatically, letting his shoulder slouch and his hips slant.

"Oh, dear," Aziraphale said. "That won't do at all. I'm afraid you're going to have to be punished again."

"That's not fair," Crowley protested as if genuinely outraged. "I barely moved."

"You were hardly holding still. No, there's only one thing for it. Drop your trousers and bend over the footstool."

Crowley did as he was told, relishing the drag of the upholstery against his hard cock for the moment he got to enjoy it before Aziraphale sternly moved him back to lean on his elbows so that he couldn't thrust against anything but air. "Are you planning to let me come at all, then?"

"I haven't decided yet," Aziraphale said, with that mild thoughtful tone again that sent a shiver down Crowley's spine. "Certainly not yet. You're being punished, after all."

"And you're enjoying it."

"It's my duty to punish your transgressions," Aziraphale said, and brought his hand down on Crowley's bare arse in a stinging slap.

His cock jerked each time Aziraphale spanked him, and the humiliation of his situation washed over him in waves, on his knees in front of an angel, letting himself be spanked, and knowing that if he was allowed to, he'd be thrusting into his own hand with every blow.

"Come on," he complained, and shifted position, just a little. Surely if he just edged his hips forward so that he could thrust against the footstool, it wouldn't take much—

"You're disobeying again," Aziraphale said. "Lust is a sin, my dear."

"And what about you, then?" he asked, taking some comfort in the certain knowledge that the angel was every bit as frustrated right now as he was.

"I'm only doing my duty," Aziraphale said primly. "I'll have to borrow your belt, I'm afraid. Stronger measures are clearly required. And as you seem to be struggling with the temptations of the flesh—"

Aziraphale reached down to take Crowley's cock in his hand, and stroked it. It felt amazingly, treacherously good. Crowley absolutely knew better, and yet for a moment he felt triumphantly sure that he was about to come, already anticipating the relief—

Aziraphale withdrew his hand at once, and Crowley made a very inhuman sound of frustration. "Now, where was I?" Aziraphale mused, and then unthreaded Crowley's belt from his trousers. "That's right, stronger measures," he said, and brought his hand down again on Crowley's buttocks when Crowley was anticipating the belt.

It was Aziraphale's hand again with the next stroke, and then again, and in a perverse way that was worse, to be anticipating the wrong kind of pain, bracing himself for a hard bright sting and getting a flat heavy slap, again, and again—

Then Aziraphale brought the end of the belt down against his bare arse, and Crowley couldn't repress an entirely undignified yelp. "That _hurt_."

"That is the point, yes," Aziraphale said, and brought the belt down again.

It hurt worse the second time, the bright sting on already abused flesh, and the sensation was so intense that Crowley wasn't even tempted to thrust his hips. It exploded over him at the slap of the leather on his arse, and spread out in waves afterwards, and for a while that was absolutely all he could imagine wanting.

Then Aziraphale's hand was on his cock again, and he groaned. That was the punishment, now, Aziraphale working him to the point where he could feel his balls cramping, the release so close that he couldn't help hoping even though he _knew_ —

"I simply can't let you," Aziraphale said, and withdrew his hand.

Crowley made a strangled noise that he hoped wasn't a whimper. "You're cruel."

"I'm only punishing you as you deserve," Aziraphale said, and with his arse stinging and his cock aching and every nerve on fire, Crowley wasn't sure if that was a threat or a promise.

Aziraphale brought the belt down again, and then again, and Crowley gave up trying to be stoic, hissing and rocking his hips against empty air. If he could only get some relief, if Aziraphale would only stop punishing him, if he could only stay just like this, forever—

He craved Aziraphale's hand on his cock again, and at the same time he didn't, because he felt sure he'd explode into orgasm at the lightest touch, and he didn't want that to be one more transgression. Instead he let Aziraphale go on spanking him, each slap with the leather a fierce hot brand of pain against his skin, until at last Aziraphale said, "I think you've had enough."

"I have," he managed, "I have, I really have."

"And will you behave, now?"

"I will, I promise I will." If Aziraphale sent him away now he'd behave himself at least until he got back to his flat, although when he thought about it, the temptation to give himself the relief he craved the moment he got into the Bentley would be awfully strong—

"I know you will," Aziraphale said, drawing Crowley up off the footstool to kneel again as properly as if he were praying. Aziraphale went down on one knee in front of him, and Crowley held very still, his arse still stinging in bright waves every time he shifted his weight, the orgasm that had been building and building now threatening to break over him at the slightest touch. "You've been so good, my dear," Aziraphale said. He wrapped his hand firmly around Crowley's cock and began to stroke it in earnest.

The first stroke brought him shuddering up to the brink again. The second brought a surge of hope that he flinched away from, because each time before, that expected relief had only been more torment. And yet he could feel his balls tightening, feel it gathering, the urge far beyond desire into desperation. "Say it again," he croaked.

"You've been so very good," Aziraphale said, and stroked Crowley's cock with a firm and merciful hand so that he came.

It felt like he'd been needing it for hours. It felt like being shaken and taken apart and being put back together again by a rush of blazing light. It felt, afterwards, like the slow returning awareness that they were both sprawled together on the hearthrug, his head on Aziraphale's shoulder.

Aziraphale rubbed soothing circles between Crowley's shoulder blades just where his wings currently weren't. "Was that all right?"

"That was perfect," Crowley said emphatically. "You must be dying for it, though. Don't tell me you're not, I won't believe it. Angelic virtue only goes so far."

"I'm not sure I'm feeling very virtuous," Aziraphale said. He reclined, and urged Crowley pointedly downward.

"I'm very good at vice," Crowley said as he unfastened Aziraphale's trousers.

"You do tempt me," Aziraphale said, and closed his eyes at the first touch of Crowley's tongue.


End file.
